


Grief is a Walk Alone

by still_lycoris



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 05:11:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9163642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: Strange goes to pick Morse up after Thursday's funeral.





	

Strange knocked on the door, feeling just a little bit unsettled. The house wasn’t quite what he’d expected somehow – not that he knew what he had expected. Maybe more of a smell of hospitals. Silly really. It wasn’t like Max was going to smell like the place he worked in, was he?

He hoped that Morse was there. It was a bit of a last resort really, he’d already looked everywhere else. He shouldn’t have let him out of his sight ... but Morse had been doing that _thing_ he did where his face looked all smooth and calm and you thought he was all right and then you realised that he wasn’t exactly all right but he’d already wandered off. He’d told Mrs Thursday that he didn’t want to disturb them any longer and vanished.

He knocked again. Max finally opened the door and gave Strange a look, the usual look that he provided when he saw people and thought they’d done something stupid. Which was often because Max was such a smug sod.

“Is he here?” Strange asked, deciding not to waste time.

“Drank all my gin and fell asleep out on the sofa,” Max said briskly, gesturing for Strange to come inside. “Told me he was fine _very_ insistently. I don’t suppose you could move him? My mother is coming to visit tomorrow and if she finds a strange man lying around, she’ll decide all those rumours were true.”

“Rumours?” Strange said blankly. Max gave him another withering look and Strange quickly decided that he didn’t want to know. He walked through and saw Morse sprawled on the sofa, eyes closed, breathing heavily. He looked paler than usual.

“You should never have taken your eyes off him,” Max said in the lecturing tone that he tended to use. “Honestly, after today? Of course he was going to pretend that he was all right for Mrs Thursday’s sake but he wasn’t going to _be_ all right, was he? Don’t you know him by now?”

Strange decided to ignore this. He gently shook Morse and was rewarded by a small groan.

“Come on matey. You can’t sleep here.”

Morse groaned and turned his head away. Strange looked at Max.

“Give us a hand then and I’ll get him to the car.”

Max gave a huffy sigh, as though this was completely unreasonable thing to ask but when he took Morse’s arm, he did it quite gently and Strange noticed that Morse leaned against him. He supposed it wasn’t that strange really. Two oddballs forming a rather odd sort of friendship.

Morse didn’t seem to like many people but when he did, he gave them his all, really. It was why he was so cut up about Mr Thursday’s death. He’d ... well. Cared about him a lot.

They draped Morse over the backseat of the car and closed the door. 

“Thanks for looking at him,” Strange said because it seemed polite.

“You’re welcome,” Max said with a shrug, as though he didn’t care at all. “Now just make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, all right? He’ll tell you he’s fine but don’t believe him. Give him some more gin and let him sleep on _your_ sofa.”

He bustled back into his house and closed the door. Strange got into his car, glancing back at Morse. He was frowning in his sleep, a sad, lost look.

“It’ll be all right, matey,” Strange said, then felt daft for talking out loud to someone who wasn’t listening. 

He’d do what Max said. Get Morse to his place, let him kip somewhere, make sure he was braced in the morning.

They’d get through this.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 12dayschristmas


End file.
